Held Hostage
by Alayna Wood
Summary: Brynjolf picked the wrong house to loot. As he finds out more and more about the shadowy assassin that took him hostage, Brynjolf wonders why she feels so familiar. After all, he would know if he had been socializing with a ruthless murderer... right? Eventual Brynjolf/Dragonborn.
1. Introduction: Mistakes Were Made

Svana silently crept through the streets of Windhelm, her Shrouded boots masking her footsteps. Watching carefully for guards, she darted up the stairs to the upper floor of the inn, Candlehearth Hall. Upon entry, she met eyes with a man. Svana could feel the nervousness rolling off him in waves.

' _This must be the "Nervous Patron" I was sent to speak with.'_

Svana seated herself in front of the man. His eyes focused anywhere but on her. The assassin noted to herself that the man was scared of her - terrified, even. ' _Good. Less of a chance he'll have the nerve to attempt to swindle me.'_ The smirk hidden by the masked cowl she wore, Svana held her silence. The man grew more and more uncomfortable, eventually breaking the quiet.

"So you're the... the assassin? I need you to kill the Greedy Merchant in the Windpeak Inn, in Dawnstar. Here's the gold. I... I hope it's enough."

The assassin nodded, pocketing the money. She didn't need the Septims anymore, what with all the gold earned in plundering tombs, but it did help keep the Brotherhood afloat. Svana left as silently as she came, laughing silently to herself with how much calmer the man seemed without her presence. Noting that no guards were around, she dashed into the shadows and leisurely walked towards one of her many homes, Hjerim.

* * *

Brynjolf stuck to the shadows. He wasn't one to frequent Windhelm, but he had a job to do in the city. The thief rubbed his hands together. At least he'd be able to head back to Riften soon, with a hefty sum of money. Delvin had sent him on a bedlam job; he had to steal 500 gold worth of goods within Windhelm. The job seemed easy enough, especially after talking to some of the locals. Apparently, the city's Thane had a home within the walls, and she didn't frequent it often. The only inhabitant was the housecarl, Calder. Calder was said to be a very strong fighter, but somewhat slow, so he was easy to get around.

Brynjolf cursed as he surveyed the house's lock. It was one of the most difficult locks to pick, so he'd have to be extremely careful if he didn't want to get caught. After a few tense minutes, he was inside. Looking around inside, Brynjolf noted how sparse the bottom floor was. A kitchen was located to the right, with a long dining table to the left. Further in the back, there was a children's bedroom and a training dummy. Straight ahead, though, were a set of stairs to the upper floor of the house. Brynjolf tested the steps as he moved forward, easing onto them to keep them from creaking. He noted the top floor appeared to be an armory. There were wicked-looking black blades with a pulsing red center; they almost looked alive. Brynjolf shuddered at the thought of being cut with one of them. He turned his eyes to the left, seeing yet more of the living weapons. The thief saw an armor mannequin clad in strange furs. Moving closer, Brynjolf began to feel uneasy. It was Forsworn armor, meaning the Thane of the house had either killed a Forsworn and looted it, or was one of them. He saw ancient Nordic weapons in display cases, and magical staves on racks. Then his eyes fell on the armor in the corner. It was Thieves' armor.

Dread pooled in the bottom of Brynjolf's stomach. He had just broken into the home of a fellow thief. Any thief could be kicked out of the Guild just for breaking into another thief's home, much less for stealing something of theirs. Nervous, Brynjolf turned to leave, but then he saw something no sane person would want to see.

A complete set of red and black leather armor, displayed on a mannequin in the corner of the room, right next to the stairway. Brynjolf cursed to himself; he really needed to leave. To enter the home of an assassin of the Dark Brotherhood without permission is to ask for a slow, painful death. Brynjolf did not want to die that day.

The thief descended the stairs as quickly as he could do so quietly; now would not be a good time to be caught by the housecarl. He eased the door open and dashed outside, eager to leave the murderer's home – but he ran right into the one person he had hoped to avoid more than anything. A woman, clad in red and black leather armor. Brynjolf had been caught in the act. Her eyes were full of surprise, but quickly darkened to annoyance as they flickered up above his head. The thief made to turn, but was knocked unconscious, the assassin's cold, dark eyes dancing in his thoughts before he faded into darkness.

 **A/N: Hello everyone! It's.. been quite a long time since I last posted a story. I usually just don't feel like writing. But! A new story, and a new fandom! Woop woop! I came up with the idea for this story while playing Skyrim last night, and fleshed it out and added more. I think it's going to be a fun ride for everyone involved (it's also funny because I've never really been a Brynjolf fangirl before). I hope you enjoy. : )**

 **This story will probably be a bit slow to update. : ( Maybe a chapter a week, which is faster than some, but still. Most of my multi-chapter stories never got completed, which was lame of me and I apologize. At the very least I can promise a thorough outline if I run out of time to write up actual chapters. In the past, I forgot what I was doing with stories and couldn't really finish them. This time though, I do have something to follow.**


	2. Chapter 1: Late Night Conversations

**A/N: Thank you to Guest for reviewing, BlackOpal218 for following, and alienawyvern for favoriting and following!**

* * *

Brynjolf slowly came to. Tied to a chair, there wasn't much he could do but look around. He noticed he was in a very small room. The man saw two tall shelves, both full of soul gems. Wincing at the throbbing in the back of his head, Bryn turned his neck to the left, spying an arcane enchanter with three cruel ebony weapons displayed on plaques next to it and a bookshelf stuffed full of tomes. He did not want to know what the weapons had been enchanted to do. A soft, slightly familiar voice cut through his thoughts.

"Sleep well?" Brynjolf could practically hear the smirk in her voice.

"About as well as I could, given the circumstances," he managed to laugh a little. Apparently his captor found it amusing as well, given the light laugh that came from behind him.

"What were you doing in my home?" Playtime was over.

Brynjolf wondered why he recognized the assassin's voice. Pondering it, he didn't answer her. He heard a heavy sigh and the woman's tone harshened. "I won't ask again. What were you doing in my home?"

He knew she knew he was there to steal her belongings. Deciding against fibbing, Brynjolf cursed at the shakiness in his voice as he responded. "I was sent on a mission to steal lots of gold in this city. The locals said this house was all but abandoned, so I figured it would be a good place to get in and get out unseen."

"You were wrong."

Why did the owner have to be in town the one time the house was broken into? Curse his luck. Brynjolf registered a light thud from behind him, and then felt fingers ghosting along his shoulder, towards his neck. His heart was thudding loudly enough that surely the assassin could hear it. She laughed softly. "You are afraid."

Brynjolf gained a bit of confidence in his next response. "Of course I'm afraid! I've heard what the Brotherhood does to those unfortunate enough to break into their homes. If I had known it was your house, I -"

The assassin cut him off. "If you had known this house was owned by a member of the Brotherhood, we wouldn't have been having this conversation. You would have been dead." She glared at him, though he couldn't see it.

Brynjolf tried to swallow the lump in his throat. He was in mortal danger, and wasn't sure he'd be able to talk his way out of this mess.

* * *

To say Svana was surprised to see Brynjolf coming out of her home was an understatement. She hadn't seen the man in a very long time, and definitely hadn't expected him to be in Windhelm. She figured if she avoided Riften, she avoided her other responsibilities. Clearly, it didn't work out that way. Cursing to herself, Svana told herself that she just needed to get rid of him in a manner that wouldn't tie back to her friends. Masking her surprise, Svana gave the minutest of nods to Calder, who had followed the thief outside. One swift hit later, Brynjolf was out cold.

"Help Calder carry him to the room, Reyda."

The assassin-in-training slowly moved out of the shadows and into the torchlight. She had been following her Dark mistress from a distance, as the woman had requested.

"Yes, my Listener."

Calder and Reyda carried the unconscious man into the hidden magic room, Svana having gone ahead and opened up the false panel. He dumped him unceremoniously in the chair, Reyda tying him in securely so he had no way to leave. Not that he did anyways, with two trained assassins in the house and a loyal housecarl, but it fed to the futility of an escape attempt.

Svana climbed the ingredient shelf and reclined lazily on top of it. She laughed to herself, remembering how Astrid did the very same thing in the abandoned shack, after Svana had killed the cruel headmistress of Honorhall Orphanage. The assassin scowled. Grelod had brought it upon herself by abusing those poor children. Svana wished she could have tortured the hag first. Her quick death was far too kind. Svana was little more than a murderer then; she couldn't even call herself an assassin. The kill was too sloppy. Shaking herself out of her reverie, Svana motioned for Reyda and Calder to leave. Doing so, they closed the panel. Svana waited for the out-cold thief to wake up. Three years ago, she wouldn't have had the patience to wait. After years of having to sit around for her targets to be in the prime placement for assassination, she had developed a very strong endurance. Seeing the man stir, she steeled herself for having to interrogate – and possibly threaten – someone she once called a friend.

Astrid would have been proud of what she said next, if the woman were still alive.

"Sleep well?"

* * *

Brynjolf knew that he could die at any given moment; he was completely at the mercy of the murderer behind him. He gathered the nerve to ask a question.

"Why haven't you killed me yet?"

"No one has prayed for your death, and you are no threat to me."

There was a pregnant pause before he asked instead, "What do you plan to do with me then, lass?"

She exhaled, thinking. "I can't leave you here with Calder, nor can I stay here until I decide what to do with you." Pausing, she sighed. "You're coming with me until I figure something out."

Brynjolf let out the breath he didn't know he was holding. Through some stroke of luck, he had managed to get some more time to work out a way to escape the assassin.

The murderer walked around to the front of Brynjolf's chair, and stared at his face for a few moments. Brynjolf began to wonder if she had changed her mind, and was going to kill him after all. His heartbeat quickened yet again.

"Don't think you can escape, thief." Her gloved hand cupped his face and softly caressed his cheek. "If you even try," she roughly pinched his cheek, "I will find you, and you will regret playing upon my mercy. That's not a threat; it's a promise." He nodded rapidly and she released his face. Knocking three times upon a wooden panel, it slid open, another assassin joining them. ' _Great, I have to escape two of them now. This day just gets better and better.'_

"Reyda. I need to speak to you alone." The other assassin nodded, Brynjolf's captor stepping outside of the small room and closing the door back. All Brynjolf could do was wait.

* * *

Svana removed her mask, motioning for her companion to do the same. She took Reyda's gloved hand in her own, and began to speak.

"Reyda, I don't want to say more than necessary, but this man was an old friend of mine, from before the Brotherhood." The Initiate's eyes widened and she nodded to her friend. The Listener never spoke about her past before she became an assassin. "I don't want to kill him, but I haven't decided what I _do_ want to do with him yet. So for now, he's going with us on our journeys." Svana sighed. "If he tries to run, we won't have much choice. He's not a stupid man though, we're assassins from the Brotherhood; he knows the Brotherhood doesn't hesitate to strike down fleeing captives. If Brynjolf values his life, he won't run."

"Of course, Mistress."

Svana smiled at her protégé, before exclaiming, "Oh!" She shook her head. "I don't want you to call me mistress or Listener while we have the thief with us." Reyda looked at the Listener quizzically. "I don't want him to know more about me than he already does, though it's inevitable that he finds out more. I just don't want him to recognize me."

"But mistress Svana, what should I call you, then? Surely he remembers your name, if you knew him before."

Scrunching up her face in thought, Svana had an idea. She grinned. "You may call me Kirsta."

* * *

 **A/N: I decided to put this chapter up early in the hopes it would help interest some more people. The story may not be your cup of tea, and that's okay, but I would definitely like to get some more people interested!**

 **Reviews are welcome! I want to know what you guys like and dislike about this story so I have an idea of how to do future chapters.**

 **Thank you so much to everyone for reading!**


	3. Chapter 2: Leaving Windhelm

**A/N: Thank you to choas666 for favoriting and MrsKittyCommander and theta117 for following!**

Masks once again secured on their faces, Svana and Reyda returned to the small room where Brynjolf sat. Svana knew she had to be convincing to keep him from figuring it out, so she immediately whipped out her Daedric dagger. Stalking over to her captive, she could see the fear and resignation in Brynjolf's face. Smirking under her mask, she cut him out of the chair.

"Get up!" she snapped, impatient. The thief immediately complied, rubbing his wrists. Reyda silently joined her friend and gestured for the thief to put out his hands. She tied them with leather strips, another piece leading to her own wrist. Yanking him along, they stopped right in front of the door.

"Won't this look a bit... obvious?"

Svana rolled her eyes and held her dagger in front of Brynjolf's face. "What does it matter if it is obvious you are a prisoner? Do you really think the citizens of Windhelm will want to mess with two of the Dark Brotherhood's top assassins?" She elbowed him. "Just keep moving and keep quiet, thief."

Before she left the doors Hjerim, Svana turned to Calder and nodded at him, leaving a few Septims on the wardrobe next to the door. It was a form of thanks; he may be her housecarl and sworn to her service, but knocking out and tying up thieves for an assassin wasn't quite in his job description. With a final glance back to Calder, Svana closed the doors to her home and joined Reyda and Brynjolf in the street.

~.o.O.o.O.o.~

Brynjolf was the spectacle of the day. Citizens everywhere stopped to watch him be dragged around, including the guards. One of the guards did stop the trio, and, stammering, spoke to the leader. It was obvious that she was in charge; the other, Reyda, he had learned, kept herself slightly behind the leader.

"Now, I know who you are. And… and I know your business… Just, please… These are good folk we got here. Mostly…" The guard that spoke up paled as soon as the leader looked up at him.

"None of your people have been harmed, soldier. Best let us on our way." The guard immediately scrambled to the side, getting out of the assassins' path.

They passed through the graveyard as a shortcut to the city gates. Brynjolf found himself wondering how many of the dead there were murdered by the two women beside him. He felt ill at the thought.

They quickly continued outside the city walls, hurrying over the bridge. The trio turned west, over yet another bridge, and stayed on the road, following the river. Eventually they came across Anga's Mill. They had been walking for a few hours already. He was aching for a rest. As if she could read his thoughts, the head assassin spoke. "It's going to be cold, and if we do not cross quickly it can prove deadly. There is a small abandoned camp just a ways down the road from the mill, but it is on the other side. There should be room for the three of us." Brynjolf could tell he wouldn't like how this turned out.

The three of them crossed the river, and Brynjolf's captors led him uphill. It wasn't long after before he recognized the remains of a campfire and a tent beside the waterfall. He began to wonder how the assassins knew of the place.

"We will stop here for the night." Brynjolf nearly collapsed with relief. He saw one of the assassins – he thought it was Reyda, but they looked almost exactly alike in that armor - begin to pull firewood from their bag, while the other removed food items from another. Looking up at him, Reyda spoke.

"You didn't think we'd let you starve, did you?" Her tone was clearly condescending. Brynjolf laughed weakly in response. "I wouldn't have put it past you, lass."

The other assassin chastised Brynjolf. "If I wanted you dead, thief, you would be dead. Of that you can be assured." That effectively ended all conversation, leaving Brynjolf much to think about. Namely, how he could get away.

~.o.O.o.O.o.~

Later that evening, Brynjolf found himself tethered to the tent the two assassins shared. If he managed to get free, it would knock the tent down on top of whichever assassin was sleeping, waking them up. There would be no escape that night.

He looked over at the woman who had taken watch. She was propped up against a rock, sitting on the hide of the deer they had eaten earlier. He noted she had to have had experience with dragons, as she was keeping a close eye on the skies as well. Feeling his gaze on her, she looked at him.

"Why are you staring at me?"

The question caught him off guard. His answer was most of the truth.

"Can't sleep." And he really couldn't, not while the Brotherhood had him. His own guild wouldn't be able to help him out of this one; they were close to the Brotherhood and worked alongside them often. There was an understanding between the two groups; if a thief entered the home of an assassin, that thief's life was forfeit. He really was lucky to be alive at this juncture.

She murmured an assent. Growing somewhat bold, Brynjolf asked the assassin, "Lass, we're going to be together for a while unless you decide to kill me. Can I at least know your names?"

The woman hesitated for a moment. She couldn't see any harm in telling him; especially since it wasn't really her name. "You may call me Kirsta." 'Kirsta' nodded to her sleeping companion. "That is Reyda." After consideration, she continued. "You are undoubtedly curious about much. Speak your mind, thief. I will answer what I can." 'Kirsta' turned her eyes back to the skies.

"My name is Brynjolf." She looked at him. "You've been calling me thief, lass, and that's not my name."  
"Nor is mine 'lass'." 'Kirsta' sounded amused.

"I suppose not. Just a habit." He sighed. "How did you know this place was here, anyways?"

The assassin was thoughtful. "There was an ex-miller by the name of.. Ennodius Papius, I think it was? This was his camp. He was my third contract killing." Brynjolf inhaled sharply. Of course it was the place of one of her murders. "The man was paranoid as he could be; always thought someone was after him." She laughed humorlessly. "Turns out, the last time, he was right. Slit his throat in his sleep; was the most painless I could offer him at the time. I think I did him a favor; the poor fool was always looking over his shoulder for an assassin or something. At least that way he was at peace."

Brynjolf stared at her. The woman could justify murder in a way that made him almost believe it was for the best.

"Mind you, this was over three years ago now. I'm not as soft as I was then."

That answered Brynjolf's next question. 'Kirsta' seemed more and more like a real, living person and less like a ruthless murderer in that moment. He grew quiet. "Why didn't you kill me earlier?" He frowned. "You had every reason to. I broke into your house; my guild knows that our lives are forfeit if we're caught trying to steal from your organization. And we both know if I tried to escape you'd run me through with those nasty looking blades on your hip."

There was a long silence. Brynjolf almost thought she wouldn't answer, but eventually, she did.

"I told you the truth earlier, more or less. You are not a threat to me, and the Unholy Matron has not given the order for your death. But you are a threat to my organization," she murmured. "You know the location of one of our bases and can lead authorities there to capture myself or a friend of mine. I cannot let you free for that reason, and it should be enough to kill you. I suppose I am... interested to see where this predicament may lead." 'Kirsta' paused. "Bloodshed always has a reason, and in this situation, it is unnecessary." With that, she stood up.

Walking over to Reyda, she tapped her companion. She dutifully rose and took 'Kirsta's' place by the rock, taking watch until dawn. There would be no more conversation that night. Uneasily, Brynjolf fell asleep.

 **A/N: I may be a bit slower posting as I still have yet to write it in its entirety and I just went back to school for senior year. Yay! But I have no intention of abandoning this story, it will be seen complete. Woo!**

 **As always, please review so I know where to improve. : ) Thank you to everyone who has read this so far!**


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